Reckless

“Please, Sam?” Romeo begged. “Can I at least watch?”

Christos and I burst out laughing.

“Quiet, you guys,” Romeo said sternly, “I can’t sleep with all that racket.”

I rested my head on Christos’ chest. “We’re going to sleep now. I promise, Romeo.”

“Awesome. I’ll wait until you’re snoring, then I’ll sneak in like a butt bandit. I’ll even be wearing one of those little black bandit-masks with the eyeholes.”

“Good NIGHT, Romeo!” I said.

“Uuuuugh,” Romeo sighed. “Fine. See you guys in the morning.”

“Sorry, no New Year’s nookie for you, agapi mou,” Christos whispered sarcastically.

“That goes for the both of us,” I taunted before kissing him on the lips, turning off my lamp, and snuggling up against him. “I’m sure we’ll have ample opportunity later.”

“You mean for that pageant you talked about hosting?” I heard a smile in his voice.

“Yes,” I said. “It will be a very exclusive event. Only the two of us are invited.”

“Mmmm,” he said, “I like the sound of that. If you hear me moaning in my sleep, you’ll know that’s me dreaming about it. Good night, agapi mou.”

“Hey, no fair! How am I supposed to sleep now that you put that idea in my head?”

“You’ll figure it out.” He kissed my cheek and stroked my shoulder. “I’ll be right here. Wake me if you need anything.”

Christos commenced softly fake-snoring.

“You so suck, Christos.”

“I’ve been known to suck things,” he murmured suggestively.

I immediately remembered the universe-shattering oral sex he’d given me only a few weeks ago. I was instantly wet. Great. I was never going to sleep like this. Because I felt his hardness pressing against one of my butt cheeks.

“Is that a steel pipe in your boxers, or what?” I whispered.

“I like to think of it as a lamp post,” he snickered.

Romeo’s voice drifted in from the living room, “I’m writing all this down, you guys.”

My breath froze mid-inhale. Caught.

“I’ll be referring to it later,” Romeo said slyly, “for educational purposes only, of course.”

I winced as Christos blew out a guilty chuckle.

Surprising all three of us, Kamiko roared, “Would you three either get on with your menage a twat, or SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”

Romeo, Christos, and I all erupted with laughter.

Thankfully, everyone drifted off to sleep not long after.

SAMANTHA

Kamiko was disastrously hung over the next morning.

We had to practically drag her out of the apartment to get brunch. The four of us drove to my favorite breakfast place, The Broken Yolk Cafe in Pacific Beach.

We parked on the street and had to walk a couple of blocks to get there. I couldn’t believe San Diego was having a heat wave in January. And by heat wave, I mean it was like, sixty-eight degrees. The weather was absolutely perfect.

Kamiko trudged far behind, head hanging between her shoulders. She wore a pair of movie-star glasses that I’d loaned her to block out the sun, and her rumpled dress from last night.

“Poor thing,” Romeo said compassionately. “She looks like she’s been run over by a garbage truck. I gave her two glasses of water at some point during the night, but I don’t think it made much difference.”

“Somebody carry me,” Kamiko begged. “I’m not going to make it.”

It was one more block to the Broken Yolk, but we all stopped to wait for her. Kamiko’s response, rather than hurrying up, was to sit down on a bus bench. “I’ll meet you guys there, but I’m taking the bus.” She laid down on the bench with her head hanging over the side of the armrest.

“I’ll get her,” Christos said. He literally picked Kamiko up and put her on his shoulders like a little kid.

“Hey! Goliath!” Kamiko groaned. “You better not drop me!”

Romeo and I both chuckled.

When the four of us made it through the cafe doors, Christos set Kamiko down on one of the padded benches in a sitting position. She immediately fell over onto the cushions and curled into a ball.

The line inside wasn’t too bad, but there was a short wait. Christos gave his name to the hostess, who was none other than Skylar, the girl who’d chatted Christos up at the Student Center the first day of classes last quarter. I vaguely remembered her saying something to Christos about some club named Onyx downtown, kitchen-table sex after, and her unbridled whorish desire for more furniture sex with my boyfriend.

Well, to be fair, Christos wasn’t my boyfriend at the time. I was still calling him Adonis at that point. But still, wasn’t my current BF-GF status with Christos retroactive? Which made the way Skylar was ogling him right now totally inappropriate?

And why was it that practically everywhere we went, we ran into some hot hobot who’d slept with my boyfriend?!

“Hey, Adonis,” Skylar said flirtatiously, thrusting her inflatable pool toys out at him scandalously. Based on the way they strained at her shirt, I’m pretty sure she’d had them pumped up another 40 P.S.I. since the last time I’d seen her.

Christos smiled at her casually, “What up, Skylar.”

Was he smiling too much, or was that an appropriate amount? I wanted to consult my Guidebook to Proper Ex-etiquette, but I’d left it at home.

Skylar bounced around the hostess podium, arms wide for a hug, leading with her buddy-bumpers. For an agonizing moment, elongated beyond reasonable proportion, I worried what kind of hug Christos would give. Would it be full-frontal? As in, pelvis to pelvis? Or a one-armed side-hug with hips at least twelve inches apart? Or would he spin and dodge out of her reach like a respectful boyfriend, and merely shake hands?

Moment of truth.

Christos leaned sideways toward her, clearly intending to give her the one-armed hug with a full twenty inches of lower-torso clearance. He even had the appropriately indulgent half-smile straining his face.

Skylar was undeterred. She thrust forward with her hips, limboing under Christos’ arm, determined to hump him like a puppy. Her body tilted so far back, Christos had no option but to catch her before she fell to the ground.

“Whoa, careful!” he said, concern on his face. She hung in one of his muscular arms. “You okay?”

“I am now,” she smiled, eyes glassy with desire, her luxurious auburn hair draping over his arms like a hair-care commercial. She looped her arms around the back of his neck like some kind of choreographed Tango dance pose.

That bitch! She was master of feminine wiles. Not to worry, I had a few ninja skills of my own. I grit my teeth, ready to pounce and tear some hair out.

Before I could attack, Christos stood Skylar up and bodily set her down two feet away, then shifted his body language away from her while folding his arms protectively across his chest.

I could deal with that. His body language was clear. I retracted my poison-tipped ninja claws back into my fingers and tried to breathe evenly while my adrenalin wore off.

“Be careful, you almost cracked your head open,” Christos said to Skylar.

“Oh, it’s my heels,” she giggled. “I’m always tripping on them. Clumsy me.”

Tee-hee, you bitch. I was ready to trip my heels all over her face. Too bad I was wearing flats. I took a deep breath. Was I being jealous? It seemed highly unlikely, but there was a minuscule possibility. I tried reasoning with myself.

Christos had already proven himself to be the most devoted man I’d ever known. He’d done numerous crazy-stupid things to hold onto me. Why would he suddenly throw that all away for some random girl he’d had, ahem, table sex with, and if I recall, barely remembered banging?

Okay, that thought just derailed my happy train and crashed it into a kitten farm, killing everyone on board